CHAPTER XXII.

HICKOK OUTWITTED BY A THIEF.

Sitting silent as a spectre, listening to the grubbing teeth of the horses a few rods distant and for the sound of any approach down the gully on the other side, Wild Bill Hickok observed a ball of fire shoot up into the southern sky in the distance. It burned brightly for a moment and then disappeared. Immediately far in the east another sprang up, and then the west responded, but to the north Hickok could not observe over the higher land.

The Laramie man knew this to be some sort of Indian signals, but of course could not pretend to understand their meaning.

Shortly the signals were repeated, this time much nearer on all sides. The significance was that the country swarmed with redskins, and that he was in the centre of a vast tract on which there were an outer and an inner circle of hostile outposts.

Hickok became absorbed in his surroundings, and wondered why he and Buffalo Bill had not discovered some evidence of these war parties when they had studied the plain before night. He decided that the surface must be more uneven than it looked from this commanding position. He heard only the occasional snarl of a prowling coyote and the whispering breeze in the dead husks of the weeds.

And then he suddenly realized that he no longer heard the grubbing of the horses. He listened intently for some moments, but if the horses were still there they had satisfied their hunger, and were quietly enjoying the rest after a hard day’s work.

From the gulch came no sound, and at last the Laramie man stole cautiously down toward the spot where he had left the horses. He found the place easily enough, but both animals were gone.

“That is odd, not to say mysterious,” muttered Hickok. “I never had a horse slip his lariat before.”

He searched for the pins, and at last found one--with a short piece of the riata still attached. He felt of the end--_it had been cut_.

The Laramie man clinched his fists in silent fury.

“A sneaking red thief has crawled right up under my nose and stolen my horse and Buffalo Bill’s,” he ground between his teeth.

To think of retaking the horses was next to a hopeless task. Perhaps they had been gone half an hour--long enough for an Indian to have led them beyond hearing and then galloped several miles.

“What will Cody think?” was the thought uppermost in Hickok’s mind. “He’ll think I went to sleep and let the redskins get away with the horses without so much as ‘by your leave.’”

And then the plainsman’s mind was settled.

“I’ll bring those horses or I’ll never come back,” he said in a low tone, for all the Laramie man’s determination was aroused.

He tore the lariat pin from the ground, pulled the piece of rope from the pin, and stuffed it into his pocket. He then searched for the other, found it, and served it in the same way.

“I won’t leave those telltale things behind,” he said.

At first Hickok attempted to pick up and follow the trail, but in the heavy pall of darkness he found that impossible, as he knew beforehand it would be. Then he started toward the nearest point where a signal light had flared. He proceeded carefully, aware that at any moment he might blunder upon a group of silent savages in the grass. Once a whirr at his side caused him to bound away from a cactus, where he had disturbed a rattler.

Frequently he stumbled in the open doorways of prairie-dog villages, and at another time a wriggling thing under his foot felt as large as a cat. It was probably a bull snake, which, cloyed with its early evening meal, had been taking a nap in the pathway of the lone plainsman.

After probably two hours of this, Hickok seemed to have reached the rim of a little valley, for there, seemingly far below him, were the twinkling fires of an Indian encampment.

“So here is where they were beginning a Fourth-of-July celebration,” thought Hickok. “Very good; we’ll slip down that way and see what they’ve got besides fireworks. Mayhap they’d enjoy some firecrackers and a little parade.”

Hickok approached the encampment with exceeding caution. He wished to locate the ponies of the warriors, for he had no doubt it was a war party, to see if his horse and that of Buffalo Bill had arrived.

He made an entire circuit of the camp, so near that he could hear the sentries greet each other in low, guttural phrases.

Again he began the circuit, this time within the circle of the guard. On his previous trip around the camp he had crossed a small stream. When he came to it again he turned down its bank and approached within three rods of the nearest fire. There he saw a dozen warriors sleeping in their blankets and one sitting with crossed legs, smoking and staring into the embers.

Hickok crept noiselessly past the fire, and followed the stream. It was as he had hoped--below the camp on the little stream were the horses. They had grazed along the bank, and now were huddled together in groups of three or four with crossed necks and heels outward, a trait which seems to have been handed down from the days when the wild mustangs thus grouped themselves for defense against the snapping wolves that came to pull them down.

Hickok carefully worked among the ponies, but found no trace of the animals belonging to himself and Cody. He successfully passed the sentry, and once more found himself on the open prairie.

He decided, as it must be well along past midnight, to seek some good hiding place before dawn, and there remain during the coming day. He had food, and water was at hand. He thought the stream might furnish dense thickets farther down, and so followed it, coming to a sharp turn where the brook tumbled over the rocks to become part of a river twenty feet below.

Hickok thought he had come to the Big Horn, but later learned it to be only a good-sized tributary of that wildly picturesque river.

On the bank near the junction the plainsman entered a dense motte of small timber. He knew he was well beyond sound of the Indian camp, and was screened from view by the sharp hill he had descended. So he started a little fire, and made a dipper of strong tea. By the light of the fire he prepared a hiding place by weaving the willow sprouts and sage brush into the thick growth about a spot he had selected for the purpose. He looked carefully about for signs of snakes among the rocks, but found none.

His nest ready for the coming day, the Laramie man ate heartily, smoked a pipeful of tobacco, and lay down to rest just as the first streaks of dawn began to show in the east.

It was late in the afternoon when Hickok awoke, refreshed and ready for action. He had slept the sleep of the weary man who is in perfect physical condition. The proximity of his warlike neighbors had not troubled his dreams. He was sorry to have caused his pards anxiety, but this could not be helped, and there was no use crying over spilled milk.

He arose and carefully reconnoitred his position before leaving the thicket. Then he moved to the edge of the timber, and looked across the plain in all directions, except to the northwest, which was hidden by the higher land.

Selecting the largest cottonwood which grew in the loving embrace of a willow, he clambered up where he could look over the brow of the ridge.

A surprise awaited him. The Indian encampment had quadrupled in size. The little valley looked like a village of a large tribe.

But a sight that stirred him more was far out on the plain to the westward. There he first saw a madly galloping cluster of horsemen. There were half a hundred Sioux making all haste to the westward, as if life depended on covering the ground at breakneck speed.

Hickok instantly picked out two of the larger animals in the lead, and knew them to be the gallant Bear Paw and his own brave horse. He looked for the object of this wild flight, and saw, far away, a herd of buffalo crossing a ridge toward the sinking sun.

“Good enough!” he exclaimed aloud. “To-night they’ll gorge themselves with buffalo meat and celebrate the event. Now, I can see where Hickok gets in his fine work and lights out with a couple of good horses--or gets a tickle of bullets in his ribs in the attempt.”

The Laramie man remained in the tree for an hour, watching the chase, and, when the surprised buffalo finally found themselves surrounded by yelling redskins, their pitiful attempts at escape and their maddened charges on the enemy were almost useless.

Hickok clambered down, and once more inspected his grub bag. Another little fire provided tea, and as the sun was going down behind the distant hills he again climbed the tree and watched the procession of returning hunters.

The night settled overcast and as dark as Erebus. The Indian fires burned up in red glare, and many signals were sent up, evidently telling other encampments of the rich haul of the party that day.

It was an ideal night for the work Hickok had in hand; the darker the better, and he felt in prime condition for the undertaking. He saw that his revolvers were loaded and in the best condition, and then filled his water pouch, for he knew not when he would again find the thirst-relieving liquid. His knife was keen.

Two hours after dark the feasting and dancing were under way. The red warriors provided meat for some time to come, indulged in much speechmaking, and one chief aroused great enthusiasm. Hickok did not know this man, and could not well get near enough to hear what he said--too many fires were burning, and the odor of cooking meat was wafted out to him, telling that the feasting and revelry would last throughout the night.

Hickok knew where to find the horses this time, and had no trouble in passing the guard, who was all eyes and ears for the camp.

But the first difficulty to overcome was an extra guard that had been posted over the stolen horses. These were apart from the ponies, probably because Bear Paw absolutely refused to associate with the Indian mustangs, and he usually emphasized his dislike in a way that made it unsafe for the smaller animals.

The two horses were lariated on the bank of the little stream opposite the others and farther from the camp fires. This was fortunate in itself for the Laramie man, but the Indians had taken the precaution to post a separate sentry by them.

The buck sat with his face to the firelight a few feet from the horses. He was smoking and now and then mumbling to himself, probably disgruntled comments on his ill luck at being unable to partake of the night’s festivities.

In their anxiety to begin the sport the Indians had given their ponies scant time to graze, and the latter were out of temper and quarrelsome. They bit, kicked, and squealed in a continuous hubbub. This noise assisted the Laramie man to carry out his plan.

He crossed the brook, and crept silently toward the unsuspecting guard. From behind clumps of sage he picked out his way, and crawled nearer and nearer.

The buck was viciously sweeping the weeds about him with the muzzle of his rifle.

“I’ll vent your temper a bit presently,” thought the Laramie man, creeping nearer and ready for a spring at the slightest turn of the Indian’s head, which was outlined against the firelight beyond.

A silent bound, a dull thud, and the buck rolled over without a moan. The Laramie man’s revolver butt had descended true and hard.

Hickok acted quickly. He cut the lariats of the horses, hitched Bear Paw’s line to his own saddle, and was just swinging into the saddle when there was a surprised “Ugh!” behind him, a shot, and Buffalo Bill’s right bower darted out upon the plain like a whirlwind, with the whole Indian encampment behind him in wild turmoil.